Brilliance (34 page)

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Authors: Rosalind Laker

BOOK: Brilliance
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‘Yes, it has been some years, Philippe. You look well.’

‘I’m in excellent health.’ A narrow moustache now enhanced his handsomeness. ‘You, Lisette, are more beautiful than ever. This is such a pleasure to meet you again. I’m staying in Nice, but came here with friends this evening to try our luck at these tables. I have seen you on the silver screen several times.’

‘Have you?’ she commented evenly.

‘Allow me to congratulate you on becoming such a fine actress.’

‘Thank you, Philippe,’ she answered. The roulette wheel had stopped and she had lost again, but it was of no importance. She gathered up her silver-threaded evening purse to move away from him to another table with some alternative play. She had wondered very occasionally in the distant past how she would feel if ever their paths crossed again. Now that had happened. Although all animosity towards him had long since melted away his presence had cast a cloud over her and she did not want to be drawn into further conversation with him. Yet he had risen to his feet with her before she could say goodbye.

‘Yes, we can’t talk there,’ he said as if she could not have had any other reason for leaving the table, and he took her elbow possessively to guide her away to a quieter place where they could sit down together, but she drew to a halt. They stood facing each other out of earshot of others in a buzz of background conversation and the clear voices of the croupiers.

‘I heard a while ago that you had married, Philippe,’ she said, ‘and wished you well.’

‘That was generous of you, Lisette.’

‘Is your wife at one of the tables?’ she enquired, glancing about.

‘No. Ellen is in the States at the present time, visiting her family in Boston. Her father has not been well and she wanted to spend some time with him.’

‘I hope she will return with good news. Now I must rejoin Joanna. Did you see that she is here?’

He nodded, but showed no interest. ‘Where are you staying in Monte Carlo? Which hotel?’

‘None of them. I’m staying with Joanna at a villa that she is renting.’

‘Ellen and I went to one of her exhibitions when we were in London. I asked Joanna about you then, but she was quite hostile towards me, even though my wife had just bought one of her paintings. Frankly, I thought it damned expensive for a few daubs of colour. Did Joanna never tell you that she and I had met again?’

‘She mentioned it,’ Lisette replied.

He shrugged in amusement and grinned with all his old charm. ‘I thought it might have slipped her mind. She never did like me. I remember you were quite an artist in your own right with your watercolours. In my opinion, they were much better than any of her present paintings. Do you still paint?’

‘I don’t have time these days.’ She looked beyond him to where Joanna had risen from the roulette table and was beckoning fiercely to her. ‘I must go. I see that Joanna is ready to move on to another table.’

He raised his hand in a gesture of appeal that she should spare him a few more minutes. ‘Now that we have met again as – I hope! – old friends with the hatchet well and truly buried, I’d like to hear about your career and what guided you into acting. Have lunch with me tomorrow.’

‘I was planning on packing tomorrow. I’m leaving for Paris the next day.’

‘Paris? Shall you be involved in animated picture work there?’

She fielded his question. ‘I’m planning to shop,’ she said truthfully. Then to avoid any more questions she added, ‘I shall certainly pay a nostalgic visit to the Grand Cafe and see the Indian room where the Lumières set the motion picture ball rolling. Then I’ll go home.’

‘You call England home?’ he said in surprise.

‘I consider that I have two homelands – France where I was born and England where I live.’

‘Then if you’re already in a nostalgic mood about the Grand Cafe I think you could extend a little of it towards me for old times’ sake and spare two hours to lunch with me tomorrow.’

She frowned. ‘Over past years I have never been the least nostalgic about you, Philippe!’

He was not daunted, a wide smile playing about his mouth while his eyes danced good-humouredly. ‘I can understand why, but I feel that at least you should tell me how you managed to disappear from the château on the eve of our wedding and then vanish completely from the face of the earth!’

She was wryly amused by his curiosity. ‘Yes, I did manage that rather well, didn’t I?’

‘Then you will meet me?’

She hesitated briefly. ‘Very well. But now I must get back to Joanna.’

Arrangements were made. They would meet at one of Monte Carlo’s best restaurants. She had her own special reason for accepting his invitation, for she was hoping that he would be able to tell her the whereabouts of her half-brother and even have some news of him.

‘So until tomorrow,’ Philippe said, bowing over her hand. Then Lisette turned to find Joanna waiting a little distance away with a grim expression on her face.

‘Why have you been wasting time with him?’ she demanded fiercely as Lisette approached. ‘He belongs to the past.’

‘Of course he does, but in a way I’m grateful to him.’

‘Grateful?’ Joanna exploded in disbelief. ‘After the way he treated you!’

‘But if he hadn’t had that
affaire
with Isabelle I would never have met Daniel.’

‘You’re being very forgiving.’

Lisette laughed. ‘Why not? A great deal of water has flowed under the bridge since he was all I wanted in life.’

‘Was he drunk this evening? He was at my exhibition.’

‘There was wine on his breath, but he was not drunk and had his wits about him.’

‘Let’s forget him now and choose another table. I’m on a winning streak.’

Joanna led the way. Lisette, following, realized she still had to break the news that she had accepted Phillippe’s invitation to lunch. She knew that Joanna would not be pleased.

Twenty

A
s Lisette lunched with Philippe she thought it was as if the clock had been turned back, for they talked as easily as if there had been no time between. Yet there was one great difference. She saw him now as the philanderer that he would always be and not a trace remained of her own passion for him. When he had first spoken to her in the casino that momentary flash of what she had once felt for him had been a trick of memory and nothing more.

A violin was being played and there were potted palms everywhere that gave some privacy to conversation. He gave her news of mutual friends and acquaintances and, as she had hoped, was able to tell her about her half-brother.

‘Maurice is in the same class at boarding school as my godson, Robert, and they are good friends. So whenever I do my godfather’s duty by taking Robert out to luncheon during the school term time, I let Maurice tag along too. He does not get home often as the château is only opened up for Isabelle’s infrequent visits and he usually has to go elsewhere during vacations. It’s my belief that Isabelle doesn’t care to be seen with a tall, sixteen-year-old son. I suppose she still thinks she looks like a belle of twenty, but the reverse is the case. Not that she ever speaks to me these days. She blamed me entirely for your running away.’

Lisette had no interest in hearing about her stepmother. ‘Do you see any Decourt family resemblance in Maurice?’

He narrowed his eyes, regarding her with a cynical smile playing about his mouth. ‘He’s not my son, if that’s what you’re asking.’

‘Of course not! I know that!’ she answered impatiently. ‘You had only been back in France a matter of weeks before the christening, but there may have been others before you.’

‘You’re right. I happen to know that I wasn’t her first indiscretion and certainly not her last, but whether Maurice is like your father or anyone else I couldn’t say. He is quite a scholar at school, according to Robert, who has nothing else in his head beyond sport and girls.’ Then a waiter came to remove their plates and another swiftly set cups for their coffee. Philippe sat back in his chair until they were gone and then he leaned forward again to ask her the question that he had been waiting to voice throughout the meal. ‘Now tell me, Lisette. How did you manage to disappear?’

She stirred cream into her coffee. ‘Take your mind back to that last evening when we went to a magic lantern show,’ she began.

He listened intently as she gave an account of her escape, adding how afterwards Daniel had employed her as his assistant and that eventually they had married after he had moved into the motion picture world. She gave no mention of anything that had happened in between. ‘Now I’m going home to work, although I enjoy my career so much that even though I get very tired sometimes acting is never a chore to me.’

He looked at her shrewdly. ‘Are you acting now? Pretending that there is still no bond between us? Nothing of our love still left?’

She regarded him steadily. ‘Philippe, be sensible. I was very young and gullible in those days while you thought that marrying an heiress would settle your gaming debts for the rest of your life. There was no real love between us.’

‘You’re being very blunt and extremely cruel.’

‘Cruel?’ she echoed with wry amusement. ‘I didn’t enjoy seeing you and Isabelle in the summerhouse.’

His eyebrows shot up and he gave a little gasp. ‘So that was when you found out!’ Then he gave a hoot of laughter. ‘That must have made you grow up!’

His shallowness exasperated her. She no longer had any patience with him and was glad the meal was at an end.

‘I think we’ve talked enough about the past,’ she said firmly, ‘and now I must get back to the villa.’

‘Give me a few minutes more,’ he said very seriously. ‘I did love you in spite of everything. Losing you was the greatest shock I had ever received and I soon realized what a fool I had been.’

She looked steadily at him with a slight smile. ‘I happen to believe that, Philippe, but it is a long time ago now.’

His serious expression did not lift, but he signalled to the waiter and settled the bill. Outside the restaurant he saw her into a cab and as she rode away she heaved a sigh of relief that she would not be seeing him again.

Next morning Lisette said goodbye to Joanna at the villa and they exchanged promises to meet again soon in England. At the railway station Lisette had reserved a private compartment on the train, because it had happened in the past that fellow passengers had recognized her and she had been pestered by their attention.

She took a window seat and put ready the book she had brought to read, but first there was the newspaper she had just purchased. As she opened it she happened to glance out of the window and saw a little fat man in a straw boater was staring at her. She supposed he had recognized her and she looked away quickly, not wanting to offer any encouragement for him to come closer. She began to read an article about Germany’s increasing military strength.

The locomotive hissed out steam as a sign of departure. Then, just as the wheels began to move, the door of her compartment was wrenched open. For a second she thought the little man in the boater was brashly invading her solitude, but it was Philippe throwing himself into the opposite seat! She gave a gasp of annoyance.

‘What on earth are you doing here?’ she demanded, crushing the newspaper down on to her lap.

He had tossed his grey bowler up on to the rack and he sat grinning triumphantly at her. ‘I’m coming to Paris with you.’ He held up a hand, foreseeing a protest. ‘Hear me out! I could tell from what you said yesterday that you would like very much to see Maurice again. I’m going to ask for permission at the school to take him and my godson out to luncheon tomorrow, which will give you the chance of a reunion with Maurice.’

‘That would be wonderful!’ she exclaimed, feeling overwhelmed by this thoughtfulness from such an unexpected source.

‘Don’t raise your hopes too high. The school only allows limited outings in a term, but it should be all right. I suggest we meet at the Grand Cafe. Shall we say at noon?’

She nodded gratefully. ‘I realize you have interrupted your stay in the sun to do this for me.’

He shook his head. ‘Not entirely. It’s high time I was back in Paris. There is building work going on in our home, making it uninhabitable, but Ellen will have expected me to be there all the time to ensure that everything is being done to her satisfaction.’

‘So you’ve been playing truant,’ Lisette remarked dryly.

He gave a careless shrug of the shoulders. ‘Ellen does not approve of gaming. I had to take the chance while it was available. You were far more tolerant.’

She ignored his comment. ‘So is the house the one where you were born or are you and your wife residing somewhere else now?’

He crossed his long legs, leaning back comfortably against the upholstery and smiling at her. ‘No, it’s the same house that you went to some years ago when you and I were going to make it our home.’

She remembered it vividly. A fine mansion with a gloomy interior. It did not surprise her that his wife wanted extensive alterations. ‘What about those portraits of your ancestors on the walls of the hall and staircase?’ she asked in a moment of curiosity. ‘Have they been moved to the gallery?’

He laughed and shook his head. ‘No such luck! Americans are crazy about their ancestral roots and Ellen was delighted that I had so many likenesses of my forebears. It also pleased her that the house itself is over a hundred years old, which is relatively new to us, but ancient to her. At the present the paintings are all being cleaned and restored.’ This statement seemed to jog his memory. ‘Damnation! I haven’t checked that they’ll be ready in time for Ellen’s return at the end of the month. She will expect the work on the extension completed, the decorating done and the portraits rehung by the time she appears. Then she plans to oversee the finishing touches. The house will probably end up looking like Versailles in its heyday, but not in the same good taste.’

She was afraid he was going to start criticizing his wife and she put an end to that line of conversation by offering him her refolded newspaper. ‘Read the prediction in this article and tell me that all this sabre-rattling by Germany doesn’t mean that there’s going to be a war. It looks very ominous to me.’

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